what were all these charms to meWhen one sweet breath of
memory Came gently wafting by? I closed my eyes against the dayAnd
called my willing soul awayFrom earthand airand sky;
That I might simply fancy there One little flower--a primrose fairJust
opening into sight; As in the days of infancyAn opening primrose seemed
to me A source of strange delight.
Sweet Memory
louisvuitton belts! ever smile on me; Nature's chief beauties spring from
thee; Ohstill thy tribute bring Still make the golden crocus shine Among
POEMS
60
the flowers the most divineThe glory of the spring.
Still in the wallflower's fragrance dwell; And hover round the slight
bluebellMy childhood's darling flower. Smile on the little daisy stillThe
buttercup's bright goblet fill With all thy former power.
For ever hang thy dreamy spell Round mountain star and heather bell
And do not pass away From sparkling frostor wreathed snowAnd
whisper when the wild winds blowOr rippling waters play.
Is childhoodthenso all divine? Or Memoryis the glory thineThat
haloes thus the past? Not ALL divine; its pangs of grief (Although
perchancetheir stay be brief) Are bitter while they last.
Nor is the glory all thine ownFor on our earliest joys alone That holy
light is cast. With such a rayno spelyilai：
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